“Why,” said the man of Athina, “shoes must be very dear in Jerusalem, when thou payest such a price but for repairing a string.”

“Yes,” answered the other; “they bring nine ducats, and even in the cheapest times from seven to eight.”

“Then it would be a profitable employment for me to take shoes from my city and sell them in thine.”

“Yes, indeed; and if thou wilt but let me know of thy coming I will put thee in the way of customers.”

So the man of Athina, who had made merry over the Jerusalemites, bought a large stock of shoes and set out for Jerusalem, informing his friend of his coming.  The latter started to meet him, and greeting him before he came to the gates of the city, said to him:—­

“Before a stranger may enter and sell goods in Jerusalem, he must shave his head and blacken his face.  Art thou ready to do this?”

“And why not,” replied the other, “as long as I have a prospect of large profits; why should I falter or hesitate at so slight a thing as that?”

So the stranger, shaving the hair from his head and blackening his face (by which all Jerusalem knew him as the man who had ridiculed the city), took up his place in the market, with his wares spread before him.

Buyers paused before his stall, and asked him:—­

“How much for the shoes?”

“Ten ducats a pair,” he answered; “or I may sell for nine; but certainly for not less than eight.”

This caused a great laugh and uproar in the market, and the stranger was driven from it in derision and his shoes thrown after him.

Seeking the Jerusalemite who had deceived him, he said:—­

“Why hast thou so treated me? did I so to thee in Athina?”

“Let this be a lesson to thee,” answered the Jerusalemite.  “I do not think thou wilt be so ready to make sport of us in the future.”

A young man, upon his journeys through the country, fell in with a young woman, and they became mutually attached.  When the young man was obliged to leave the neighborhood of the damsel’s residence, they met to say “good-by.”  During the parting they pledged a mutual faith, and each promised to wait until, in the course of time, they might be able to marry.  “Who will be the witness of our betrothal?” said the young man.  Just then they saw a weasel run past them and disappear in the wood.  “See,” he continued, “this weasel and this well of water by which we are standing shall be the witnesses of our betrothal;” and so they parted.  Years passed, the maiden remained true, but the youth married.  A son was born to him, and grew up the delight of his parents.  One day while the child was playing he became tired, and lying upon the ground fell asleep.  A weasel bit him in the neck, and he bled to death.  The parents were consumed with grief by this calamity, and it was not until another son was given them that they forgot their sorrow.  But when this second